


A shadow of an old sin

by Titlark



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titlark/pseuds/Titlark
Summary: A few days after he was released  from prison and Henriette had left for England, the Chevalier once again finds himself in serious trouble. Philippe had forgiven him for his recent plotting, but the new found balance between them is still very fragile.Not at all good timing for another skeleton to appear from the Chevalier's cupboard...





	

May, 1670  
The Gardens of Versailles were becoming undoubtedly a feast for the senses, Philippe couldn’t possibly deny that. 800 hectares of land west of the palace itself were brought to perfection by monsieur Le Nôtre, known for his undying love for symmetry, and by an army of gardeners. Everything, of course, was under the close supervision of the Sun King himself.  
“I was just told,” said Louis to Philippe as they walked around the Latona Fountain, “that they brought the new statues in yesterday evening. We’re going to see them after I show you the Apollo.”  
“I’ve seen that one already, it’s been in this garden for a year or so,” answered Philippe wryly. He had nothing against gardens or statues, but this showing lasted for hours. Louis gave him a cold stare. Sadly for him, the group of courtiers following them were inclined more to Philippe’s point of view.  
“You’ve maybe seen the Apollo, but I doubt you’ve seen the hedges around him, my gardener had them planted and cut just yesterday.”  
“In that case I’m sure they’ll be just spectacular,” smiled Madame de Montespan, hanging on Louis’ arm. Then she gave pleasant smile to Philippe as well and he returned it.  
“I’m sure, Madame,” said Monsieur and his lasting smile was so sweet that everyone’s teeth suddenly ached, “you’ve always been very fond of gardening.”  
“I wasn’t, actually,” responded Montespan, “but I always like to learn something new. Especially when I have the best of teachers.”  
Louis smiled.  
“I’m sure your teacher does what he can to make the use of your gardens more pleasant,” shrugged Philippe innocently, “it seems your husband’s fingers are not as green as maybe they once were.”  
“Brother!” hissed Louis.  
“A tragedy of choosers,” smiled Montespan, not losing her composure, “too bad for you that most handsome young men are gardeners.”  
“Don’t you think,” said Louis loudly before Philippe could respond, “our terrace needs some statues there,” he pointed his finger, “and there? The place appears somehow empty to me.”  
“If you place more statues there, brother, the terrace will surely lack something even more important.”  
“Which is?”  
“A space for people.”  
Louis waved his hand and all his company, altogether twenty people, followed him further, heading to the Apollo fountain.  
Philippe turned his head and gave a desperate stare to the Chevalier in the crowd. The only response was conspiratorial smile. Philippe turned back again so he missed how the Chevalier tilted to one of young women from Montespan’s abandoned accompaniment and whispered something.  
“I also plan to widen those flower beds,” explained Louis as they were slowly walking towards Apollo, when suddenly they heard a hubbub behind them. Louis turned around just in time to see a young girl faint and fall right in the arms of the Chevalier, who lay her down on the pavement immediately.  
“Someone bring water!”  
“No, not water, put her legs up!”  
“Do not dare to touch her legs, you-”  
“Excuse me, Madame!”  
Philippe turned to Louis. “It seems this should be the end of the trip for today, brother. Your courtiers are starting to trail off.”  
Irritated, Louis looked in the direction of the Apollo fountain, but then he nodded.  
“Very well. Take the poor girl in. It’s time for lunch anyway.”

Some ten minutes later Philippe was walking in the garden only with the Chevalier, hand in hand.  
Philippe laughed. “So you paid her to faint?”  
The Chevalier grimaced. “That wasn’t even necessary. I simply said that it could be a perfect opportunity to be noticed by the king. And she came down like a ripened apple.”  
They slowly came to the pool and Philippe slightly frowned as he watched the pool house mirroring in the water.  
It was a cold spring day. The sky was grey and unfriendly and the wind, which suddenly rippled the surface of the pool, coldly penetrated the coats of both men.  
“He sent her to England,” mumbled Philippe.  
“Sixteen,” said the Chevalier indifferently.  
Philippe looked at him, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“It’s a number between fifteen and seventeen, my darling,” replied the Chevalier, “as well as the number of times you mentioned England this week. And it’s only Tuesday.”  
“And what would you do if your brother-”  
“Speaking about brothers,” the Chevalier interrupted him, “I need to talk with you about something.”  
That sounded serious and Philippe frowned. “Of course, if it’s not about the statues or hedges.”  
The Chevalier chuckled and shook his head. “No, not really. My brother is getting married.”  
Philippe raised an eyebrow. “I thought he was already married for some time.”  
“Engaged yes, but the bride’s family had some objections about... let’s say... the level of morality in our family.”  
“They heard about you,” said Philippe, “didn’t they?”  
“Yes, they did,” nodded the Chevalier, “it took some time before my brother managed to convince them that I’m a solitary incident and the rest of house of Lorraine are respectable people who don’t make scandals, but visit the churches, sleep with their wives and raise their children in fear of God. The Duke of Villeroy gave his consent and now nothing stands in the way of his sweet daughter Catherine to become the Countess of Armagnac. My brother isn’t very happy about the fact that he’ll see me at the ceremony, but he wrote mother had insisted, so I’m leaving in a few days for Paris.” He shrugged.  
“You’re leaving?”  
“Temporarily. Why are you looking at me like that?”  
Philippe stared at the Chevalier’s face like he wanted to memorize every single detail of it and his eyes were far from friendly.  
“Make your guess,” appealed Philippe to him coldly.  
“You’ll miss me?”  
“No.”  
“Then what?”  
“Do you remember the last time you went to Paris?” reminded Philippe. “You’ve ended up in prison for three weeks! And now again?”  
“You’re seriously thinking I would try to assemble your brother’s enemies on the pretext of my brother’s wedding?” the Chevalier shook his head. “You are really sweet, my love. But not for a second time.”  
“Before you did it, I wouldn’t believe you would be able to do such a thing,” said Philippe sharply, “you’ve been lucky that my brother needed something from me, otherwise you’d be rotting in a cell.”  
“And I thought you’ve forgiven me.”  
“Perhaps,” emphasized Philippe, “but I refuse to be made your fool once again.”  
“But honestly, now you’re acting like a fool.”  
“Is that so? Then I’m lucky I can afford it. You on the other hand have no such a luxury.”  
“You’re overreacting.”  
“I’m not,” retorted Philippe, “and you’re staying here. I promised my brother I’d keep an eye on you and be sure that I honour that promise. You’re staying.”  
“Good.”  
“What?”  
The Chevalier shrugged. “I said good. There is nothing more dreadful than family meetings, you should know by yourself. And now, if you excuse me, I have to write letter to my mother, that I would gladly come but sadly such a thing would be interpreted as an intent to destroy the monarchy.”  
He turned around and left Philippe standing on the pool shore. The silence lasted for approximately ten seconds, before-  
“Chevalier!”  
Philippe approached his lover with several long quick steps and stopped before him, not knowing what to say, he only smiled apologetically.  
“Maybe I... overreacted,” he said watching the ground.  
“No, you didn’t, my dear,” the Chevalier caught his hand and caressed it, “I know what you’ve been through the past months and I can’t forgive myself for it. You could write me off, but you didn’t. Afterwards you could have sent me away, but you let me in. You’re my little forgiving fool, my angel, and I love you for it. And I’ll never stop being grateful.” And he pressed the hand he was holding to his lips.  
“What am I going to do with you?” sighed Philippe.  
The Chevalier reached out to tilt Philippe’s chin to the side to look directly into his eyes. “Love me,” he asked.  
Philippe lightly smiled and gave him a passing kiss.  
The Chevalier chuckled. “So from now you just palm me off with that?” And kissed Philippe himself, the best he could.  
“Maybe we should go to lunch,” said Philippe quietly and shook the Chevalier off. Since he returned from prison, they didn’t sleep together. There was a barrier neither of them crossed for the situation was still too fragile.  
“Why should we?”  
“Because I’m hungry?” suggested Philippe.  
“Well, I have an appetite myself,” smiled the Chevalier.  
Philippe laid his hand on his lover’s shoulder. “Then maybe we should eat,” he said, turned around and went back to the palace and the Chevalier followed. 

Three days later a line of carriages arrived in front of the lavish residence belonging to the count of Armagnac.  
Louis de Lorraine was quite similar to his younger brother, but the likeness ended with his appearance. He was a handsome, serious man in his early thirties, a little haughty, meticulous, thrifty and according to the Chevalier boring as hell.  
Louis came to the front courtyard, watched his prodigal brother getting out of carriage and welcomed him warmly indeed.  
“Ah, you,” said Louis, “I nearly hoped you change your mind.”  
“I’m happy to see you too,” smiled the Chevalier, “and you know how I simply adore our family meetings, and sometimes a wedding? How could I resist? So... where is that little pumpkin of yours?”  
“There will be important people at the ceremony,” said Louis coldly, “so I expect your best behaviour. Or at least the most normal you’re capable of. And I hope you’ve brought some pretty boys with you, because I do not wish any of my servants to be molested, do you understand?”  
The Chevalier only smiled and turned back to the carriage.  
“My dear brother, may I present you His Royal Highness, Philippe, the Duke of Orleans?”  
The Count of Armagnac stared for a moment like a pigeon hitting a window and bowed quickly to hide his face while Philippe got out from the carriage.  
“Your Royal Highness,” swallowed Louis de Lorraine, “what an honour, we... didn’t expect you to come.”  
“It was sudden decision,” nodded Philippe, “but my brother, the King, quite agreed with my suggestion that the union of two of such noble houses should be attended by our family. He expressed his deepest regret that he could not take this most pleasant duty himself, but he is held in Versailles by important matters of state. He urged me to pass on his congratulations.”  
“We are deeply honoured, Your Royal Highness,” said Count of Armagnac, “truly.”  
He wasn’t a very good liar at all, both Philippe and the Chevalier could see it. They exchanged amused glances and Philippe caught the Chevalier’s hand conspicuously. In the very moment another group of people entered the courtyard.  
The Count of Armagnac smiled in relief and Philippe let go of the Chevalier’s hand.  
“Your Royal Highness,” said Louis of Lorraine and pulled one of the young women from the group, “may I present you my fiancée, Catherine de Neufville.”  
Said fiancée curtseyed and Philippe smiled. “I’m delighted to meet you, mademoiselle. I’ve already heard so much about you. You would have been one of the fairest flowers in the Gardens of Versailles.”  
Catherine didn’t respond, just shook her head shyly and looked down. Actually the Chevalier’s description of Catherine as “little pumpkin” was far closer to the truth than Philippe’s compliment. She was quite small and even firmly tightened corset couldn’t hide her natural chubbiness, round face and two chins. But her honest blue eyes and full lips made her attractive.  
“And this,” Louis de Lorraine continued making introductions, “is Duke of Villeroy...”  
“Your Royal Highness.”  
“Duke.”  
“... and my mother, Marguerite Philippe du Cambout.”  
Philippe noticed that the old woman stared at her younger son, while the Chevalier tried to stay aside as much as possible and admired the gargoyles or something else up on the roof.  
“... and there are my younger brothers Alfonse, Chevalier d'Harcourt, this is Raimond, and Charles, viscount of Marsan.”  
Philippe nodded to all three young men and watched them with quite an interest. The Chevalier never really talked about his family and Philippe honestly never really cared. He knew only that much that his Chevalier has one older brother and some younger ones and that he feels no special attachment to any of them. All three younger ones reminded him more of their eldest respectable brother, none of them seemed to have the Chevalier’s free spirit, carelessness and charm.  
The introductions were completed and the Count of Armagnac maneuvered all the company to salon, before servants prepared the rooms for the unexpected guest.

“I’m so delighted you brought him,” uttered Louis de Lorraine to the Chevalier in salon. They both held a glass of wine and watched Philippe, dragged into polite conversation with Duke of Villeroy and his wife. They were discussing the duke’s favourite subject – politics, The King and the possibility of an invasion in Holland.  
“I always seek opportunities to delight you, my dear brother,” smiled the Chevalier, “I’m glad you noticed.”  
Louis frowned. “Not really.”  
“He wanted to come. Could I refuse him?” retorted the Chevalier. “When he takes something in his mind, he’s stubborn as an ox!”  
“And you used to say he was your puppet.”  
“Yes, but from here to there, you know.”  
“Spare me the details of your intimacy, brother, maybe he’s clever to keep you on the leash. After the trouble you caused to us all. What?” he added the derisive question when noticed the Chevalier’s surprised look. “You didn’t know? The King’s secret services searched my house,” said Louis angrily, “three times to look for incriminating documents! I was interrogated to prove that I have nothing in common with your activities! Do you have any idea how our mother felt after I told her what happened to you?”  
“Oh yes, poor you,” grimaced the Chevalier, “I was locked in jail! How do you think I felt?”  
“However gravely you suffered,” said Louis, “no doubt you managed to heal quite well in someone else’s ass.”  
Before the Chevalier could answer to that, a valet approached them to announce to his master that there is some urgent situation demanding his attention.  
Louis de Lorraine excused himself to guests and left.  
The Chevalier stayed alone for a moment, not willing to join any of the debating groups. He hadn’t been inside this house since his father died, four years ago.  
He briefly contemplated about the transience of life, before a quiet clearing of the throat behind his back interrupted him. He turned around and froze by surprise.  
There was a young, dark-haired woman watching him with slightly amused caustic sparkle in her big brown eyes. Her head was on level of the Chevalier’s shoulders and not even a cleverly tailored dress could hide the fact that her physique reminded of a fire poker. Her face was quite appealing despite too sharp a chin and cheekbones. This woman couldn’t be called a beauty, especially by someone used to seeing the ladies of the court, but there was something in her, some fire and vivacity to replace the lack of other assets.  
“Claude!” smiled the Chevalier. “I’m so glad to see you!” His pleased exclamation wasn’t very believable.  
“I wish I could say the same,” responded the young woman called Claude.  
“Well, then say it.”  
“Not a chance,” smiled Claude, “where have you been all these years, you son of a bitch?”  
She said it so nicely and innocently that the Chevalier doubted for a moment that she knew what that meant, but some cold reflection in her eyes convinced him, that she actually knows very well.  
The Chevalier decided to chuckle. “Louis shouldn’t hear you speak about mother like that.”  
“I see you’ve brought Duke of Orleans with you,” Claude changed the subject quickly, like a dog spotting a squirrel, “I’ve never seen him before, he’s really handsome, isn’t he?”  
“Many say so,” nodded the Chevalier carefully and took a long hard look at her.  
“His wife must be very happy,” continued Claude.  
“Yes, she must be.”  
“I didn’t come to welcome him in the courtyard,” she said and the Chevalier thought that was at least one good thing, because he knew that from all the venomous snakes here Claude was the worst. “I really wanted to,” she continued, “believe me, but my son kept me upstairs. He is three years old,” she added.  
The Chevalier thought that he would like that child more if it kept its mother upstairs for a whole day.  
“How long is it since I saw you for the last time?” she said to herself, but also to the Chevalier.  
“Four years ago,” reminded the Chevalier, “I bet you remember.”  
“I only wonder...,” she started.  
The Chevalier interrupted her. “What? Listen, why don’t you just go back to your husband? I can imagine he doesn’t miss you, but once he agreed to drag you around like a ball and chain, he should be consistent.”  
“That would be just lovely in the case I had a husband.”  
“You’re a widow?”  
“I’m unmarried.”  
The Chevalier raised an eyebrow. “You said you had a son.”  
Claude gave him a cold stare. “Tell me – was it the court life or your lover what has made you a half-wit?”  
Before the Chevalier could answer to that, suddenly Philippe appeared right next to him.  
“I’m glad you’re having fun whilst letting me deal with your relatives alone,” said Philippe with a little reproach in his voice.  
“I’ve told you about them,” shrugged the Chevalier, “you didn’t believe me.”  
“You should have believed him, Your Royal Highness,” suddenly said Claude and both men turned to her, “all Lorraines are either boring or queer. I’ve heard it happens in the old families.”  
Philippe frowned. “And you are...”  
“Claude de Souches,” she curtseyed, “I was ward of late Count of Harcourt.”  
“I see,” Philippe nodded and smiled, “I’m pleased to meet you.”  
“So am I, Your Royal Highness,” smiled Claude and gave a mischievous side-eye to the Chevalier, “I am really glad indeed.”  
And that was the moment the Chevalier decided he can’t let her out of sight. 

During dinner it seemed God decided to fulfil the Chevalier’s secret wish. The Duke of Orleans was seated in the place of honour between the Count of Armagnac and Duke of Villeroy, while Claude was in safe distance next to the bride’s giggling sisters.  
He tried not to look at her very often, because she was watching him. Maybe her mind was four years back in this very room too. the Chevalier remembered every detail of his father’s funeral and what happened after it. The whole family blamed him for that death – just because his father’s heart seized right after he read a letter from him! Claude was the only one who didn’t think so and she spoke her mind and not very politely. God knows the Chevalier used to love her sharp tongue – as much as he feared it now. They banished her from the room. And after that, the Chevalier remembered that part quite vaguely, the dinner ended and he stayed there alone, sitting and drinking. And she came back and they were drinking together and talking and laughing and...  
The Chevalier was brought to present by the sound of chairs scraping on the floor. The dinner was finished and Louis de Lorraine invited all the guests into the salon.  
Servants were crossing the room with trays and Catherine, on her fiancé’s request, sat at the richly decorated harpsichord. The tunes of a suite filled the air. Others sat down by card tables or on sofas to talk and enjoy music.  
Philippe joined the Chevalier, who watched Catherine play, and whispered: “What’s going on,” he sounded concerned, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost. I was watching you all through dinner.”  
The Chevalier shrugged. “I think there are much more terrifying things than ghosts. Our poor Catherine’s dress, for one.”  
Monsieur quickly checked said dress and couldn’t but agree. Then he turned back to the Chevalier.  
“You’re good liar, but not that good,” insisted Philippe, “I can see that something’s not right.”  
“Maybe just the fact that you keep talking while I’m trying to listen to the music,” retorted the Chevalier and Philippe withdrew, offended.  
Catherine ended the piece, some people clapped.  
“Do you play duets, mademoiselle de Neufville?” asked Philippe and got up.  
She quickly turned her eyes to the instrument and lightly nodded. Philippe approached the harpsichord, took the score and leafed through it until he finally found something for four hands. A Servant quickly brought a stool for Philippe. He sat down and at the signal players started the variation on the famous melody from Lully’s L'Amour malade.  
The Chevalier realised too late that Claude took Philippe’s place next to him. For a moment they listened to the music together, before she whispered: “I should apologize.”  
The Chevalier turned to her and frowned. Whatever he expected from her, certainly an apology didn’t make the list.  
“You? Why?”  
“I was maybe too harsh,” said Claude, “you know, before dinner. I saw you and I was angry.”  
“Well...,” the Chevalier had trouble to find the right words, “I guess it wasn’t easy for you. Or maybe,” he added, finding his more usual confident self, “it was your hatred driven by a secret desire to end up in my bed once again. Maybe both.”  
“Believe me,” answered Claude sardonically, “I’d enter your bed only in the case I had been infected by smallpox.”  
“Good to know.”  
“But...,” she continued, “to be completely honest... I don’t hate you, you know? I was a fop’s fool and I paid for it, that’s all. It was nice, though. I like to recall it, sometimes when I can’t sleep at night.”  
“Why are you telling me this?”  
“Am I embarrassing you? I agree,” she smiled unhappily, “it’s quite a poor story. But the strange thing is... from the two of us it’s still you, who’s pitiful.”  
The Chevalier turned to her. “Why should I be pitiful?”  
Claude just jerked her head towards Philippe. “Because I used to be poor unmarriable ward and I still am. You, on the other hand, used to be a promising member of one of the greatest houses – and you’ve become the king’s brother’s whore.”  
The Chevalier pressed his lips together and said nothing. She clearly intended to provoke him and he swore to himself she won’t succeed. Unpredictable woman, one couldn’t be sure of anything while talking to her. That was another reason why the Chevalier used to like her. But only used to – now he would prefer any woman in this situation but Claude de Souches.  
“I’ve heard the king sent Louise de La Valliere to a convent and found someone new,” continued Claude, “someone more befitting his expectations.”  
“I know. And what?”  
“Come now,” she added as she noticed the Chevalier’s stiff motionless face, “you know what I mean. You and him... you can’t possibly think this will last. Some years maybe, but he is royal, he can do what he wants and dispatch of whomever he wants. When we take away all the nice words you’re nothing but his toy. And after he finds the first grey hair on your head and your skills of love fading away, he’ll find someone to make him feel a touch of youth again. And you will end up forgotten in the gutter, just like all the other used nameless sluts.”  
“Delightful,” the Chevalier forced a smile, “you are a genuinely wicked woman.”  
Claude lifted her glass and smiled as well. “Amabam et amabar set iam non amor. And you can soon say the same.”  
The Chevalier got up and quickly left the room.  
After few minutes the last chords of L’Amour malade sounded and all people started to clap in raptures.  
Philippe courteously kissed hand of his co-player and glanced around the room in confusion, for he didn’t see the Chevalier.  
Catherine headed to her fiancé and Philippe sat in the Chevalier’s place next to Claude.  
“I’m sure your friend will be here shortly,” said Claude and smiled, “I think he needed a little air.”  
Philippe nodded and took a glass of wine from the servant. “So...,” he politely turned to Claude, “you grew up in this family?”  
“Henri de Lorraine was my godfather, Your Royal Highness,” she answered, “and I lived here since my father’s death, since I was seven.”  
“How did it happen?”  
“Smallpox, Your Royal Highness. It took many people there. I was lucky I was in a convent at the time, my father paid nuns for my education. But the late Count of Harcourt wasn’t very fearing of God, so after I got placed into his care he hired a governess. I was like the daughter he never had, at least I think so.”  
“He died the same year as my mother,” said Philippe, “I’m sorry for your losses.”  
“I am sorry for yours, Your Royal Highness. It is said the loss of a mother is the worst of all. I don’t remember mine, she died for puerperal fever. But,” Claude smiled like she wanted to chase off the sombre mood, “the countess is very kind to me and I found new brothers here.”  
“The Chevalier is lucky to have a sister such as you, mademoiselle, I’m sure,” smiled Philippe.  
Claude chuckled and said: “I doubt he thinks of me as sister, Your Royal Highness, especially after he fathered my son.”  
Philippe gasped and choked on the wine he was drinking just as the Chevalier entered the room again. Claude hit Monsieur several times on the back and when he turned around, breathing again, the Chevalier knew that what just happened was what Claude wanted since their arrival.  
“You did what?” asked Philippe and his voice was hoarse from coughing.  
The Chevalier stood still for a moment before he turned to Catherine and her sisters: “Ladies, what about a little music again?”

Surprisingly for everyone, especially the Chevalier, the rest of the evening passed off without any sign that Philippe would take Claude’s revelation badly.  
Later, after the party ended and everyone was in their rooms, the Chevalier knocked on Philippe’s door and a servant let him in.  
Philippe was sitting on the bed, fully dressed.  
“How kind of you to come for a visit,” said Philippe caustically, “your lady friend is sleeping already?”  
The Chevalier shrugged. “How can I know? And,” he added, “she isn’t my lady friend.”  
“Indeed,” Philippe nodded, “she is mother of your son.”  
From his mouth the fact sounded strangely to the Chevalier. Somehow... definitively. Like until now he hadn’t realised what the situation really was.  
“You know,” Philippe continued, “I was thinking about my life during these last years – do you know what I realised?”  
The Chevalier smiled a little. “I know you’re going to tell me.”  
“I realised I’m indisputably the greatest dimwit who ever walked the earth,” barked Philippe, “how else can I explain the fact that after all what happened you’re still standing here! I dealt with the fact you’re sleeping with others a long time ago, but... this? Why? Please, tell me at least you weren’t pulling my leg all these years claiming you love me and then sleeping with women behind my back!”  
“Philippe!” the Chevalier approached him and grasped his shoulders. “I’ve lied many times and to many but never to you and never about what I feel about you. There are so many people in the world, but I love you, I want to be with you, stay with you and never leave! There’s never going to be anyone else for me,” he said with little smile, shaking his head, “you’ve wrecked me, you know? I wouldn’t be any good to anybody - except for you.”  
Philippe looked at him and the stare was cold. “Give me any reason why should I believe you.”  
“I swear there is nothing between Claude and me! There’s never been anything!”  
“You know what?” Philippe got up and angrily crossed the room. “Maybe I’d even prefer if there was something between you. Your breeches at least!”  
“It didn’t happen yesterday! It was four years ago!”  
“How long have we known each other?” asked Philippe. “If you don’t know, I tell you – we’ve spent a decade together, so please, do the counting and you’ll maybe understand the point of my disapproval.”  
“I didn’t want it!”  
“So you want me to believe she raped you, or what? And you’ve given her a son by defending your fidelity I presume.”  
“Look,” the Chevalier made an attempt to handle the situation, “it ended like this, but it meant nothing. It was one night, she was willing, I was drunk-”  
“You’re drunk nearly every night,” said Philippe mockingly, “and does it mean you bend a lady over some table every time? How many bastards do you have already?”  
“God, Philippe, I don’t know!” exclaimed the Chevalier.  
“That’s the best answer you can give me?” yelled Philippe. “I have an idea how you could know, but I’d be probably asking for too much!”  
“If I may remind you, you also sleep with others, your wife for one!”  
“The tiny difference is that my existence at court doesn’t depend on you! And that woman is not your wife, you don’t have a wife! But go on,” Philippe waved his hand towards the door, “it’s brilliant idea actually! Get out, marry her, buy some quiet country house and have more lovely babies together, I’m sure she would be delighted!”  
“Did you see her?” the Chevalier blurted out.  
“She seemed attractive and very agreeable,” smiled Philippe patronizingly, “as a wife I’m sure she’d be perfect.”  
“That woman is wicked!”  
“In that case you’ll get along even better. And I’m not joking. Tomorrow I return to Versailles and you are not going with me.”  
“No!” screamed the Chevalier and Philippe was taken aback, but maintained his point.  
“Get out now,” he said quietly, “and don’t force me to call a servant to help you find the door. I can accept I have to deal with the endless complaints about you, I can ignore the fact that you’ve not so long ago betrayed us all, I can defend you in front of my brother, I can give up any position that would be offered to me on condition that I got rid of you, I can close my eyes while you’re sleeping with others, men or women, and I could even come to terms with Claude and your bastard, but I refuse to do everything of it! If you can’t recognize the last straw, it was this! We’re finished!”  
“Philippe!” the Chevalier caught Philippe’s hands, but they broke free from his clench.  
“Get out I said.”  
“Philippe, you cannot do this, this is what she wants!”  
“She wants it?” Philippe grimaced. “Then she can have it for all I care.”  
“Philippe, I beg you-”  
“Stop it!” exclaimed Philippe and stepped back. “Stop doing this. Stop crawling like this, it’s disgusting! Just stop doing this to me! Get out! Now! I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to meet you ever again!”  
“Know this, if nothing else,” said the Chevalier quietly, “whoever takes my place by your side, you can be sure he won’t love you as I do. Whatever I do, whatever you do, whatever we do to each other, Philippe, I will love you until I die and if there’s anything after that, heaven or hell, I’ll love you there as well. Don’t send me away, Mignonette, because if you should be by any means taken from me, my heart would cease to beat and you wouldn’t even know.“  
Philippe’s face was motionless before he said: “In that case we’ll soon see if your heart can honour your promise. And go now, I want to sleep.”

The corridors of the Lorraine’s residence were dark and cold when the Chevalier went to his chambers. But he didn’t even care if he reached them.  
Finally he got into his empty anteroom, opened the window and leaned against the windowsill. He nearly thought he’d vomit, the waves of nausea, pressure and trembling were pouring one into another again and again so violently the Chevalier thought he can’t even remain standing for long before falling on the floor. His shoulders began to shake and he was quickly swallowing tears so they didn’t reach his eyes. And they didn’t, not all of them anyway.  
He slowly started to realize what it all means. Tomorrow I return to Versailles and you are not going with me. To watch him leave... and... to stay here? What kind of life...  
And then it occurred to the Chevalier: I have no life! This realization hit him like lightning. He felt abandoned and hurt, in the cold and draught. He leant out of the window to reach more of the night air, which helped him to breathe for his throat was constricted and stomach in knots. Out of the blue some warm hand touched his shoulder, the Chevalier turned around in sudden hope and looked into brown eyes of Claude de Souches.  
“I hope I don’t interrupt anything,” she said.  
The Chevalier stared at her like he saw her for the first time and suddenly his right hand darted to her throat and grasped it firmly.  
Claude gasped.  
“On the contrary,” hissed the Chevalier in her ear and his clench became tighter, “you have just perfect timing. As you’ve always had.” Claude barely wheezed and tried to push the Chevalier away, but he didn’t let go. “Tell me one thing,” he continued and pulled her closer to whisper right in her face, “why are you here now? Have you forgotten to do something that would knock me down even more? I could strangle you right now and hide your body in a cellar, no one would ever miss you.”  
Then he finally loosened his grip, Claude lurched few steps back, heavily breathing, and touched her bruised neck.  
“I just wanted,” she rasped after a while of silence, “to make sure you’re alright.”  
“How touching,” grimaced the Chevalier.  
“And to say sorry. I didn’t want it to happen. Actually...,” she added as an answer on the Chevalier’s raised eyebrow, “I did want it to happen, I just... never expected it would.”  
“So you’re not only my curse, but stupid as well,” the Chevalier blew a raspberry, “what exactly did you imagine to happen? Think about it, I’m curious. And you can take your time, don’t worry I wouldn’t be here to hear it later. It seems I’ll spend some time with my lovely family. If Louis lets me, of course.”  
He turned to the window simply too tired to keep the argument going, and Claude dared to move closer.  
“So... you can’t go back? To Versailles?” there was no malicious joy or victory in her voice, only careful pity and compassion. She touched the Chevalier’s shoulder once again this time he let her.  
“Of course not,” mumbled the Chevalier, “he disposed of me like a rabid dog. He leaves tomorrow, alone.”  
“It’s unfair that some people have power to destroy our lives, joys and hopes in a blink of an eye,” sighed Claude and pressed the Chevalier’s hand, “ the world is never fair. When I got pregnant I thought I won’t survive the shame. I thought this was the end, that I couldn’t continue, but...,” there she faltered for a moment, but then she said: “Come with me. I’ll show you something.”  
And he went.  
Claude was holding a candle in one hand, and the Chevalier’s upper arm in the other as she led him through several corridors from the guest wing to the main part of the house. Then two floors up, and finally they entered one of rooms.  
The nurse was sleeping in the anteroom. Claude didn’t wake her, just quickly made few quiet steps and together with the Chevalier disappeared in the bedroom.  
There was only one bed there, a little bed with little boy in it. The adults approached it and the Chevalier watched the child’s face in weak candlelight. The boy was just at the age when a child stops toddling and gives the first few hints of what person it will become. The boy’s head was full of Claude’s dark hair, his face was round and soft. His little mouth was slightly open, one didn’t even need to see a tiny hand in front of it to guess he was sucking his thumb.  
“He is my little angel,” whispered Claude and quietly chuckled, “I just wonder from which one of us he took it.”  
“Mystery indeed,” agreed the Chevalier. “What’s his name?”  
“Alexandre,” she answered and added with smile: “When he was born, your mother said he looks exactly like you. And he is strong and clever... shall I wake him?”  
The Chevalier shook his head. “There’s no need.”  
“I found hope again when he was born,” mumbled Claude, “and some... certainty. It suddenly feels like my life isn’t lived for nothing whatever I do with it.”  
“I’ll give you some money for him.”  
“It’s not money I want,” said Claude quietly and looked at him.  
He looked at her. Did she really...  
“Our boy is something what can never be taken from us,” said Claude, “he will be always part of us, whatever happens, of me and you.”  
The Chevalier realised she was still holding his hand so he slipped out of her clasp. Then he jerked his head towards the door, Claude understood and they came out to the corridor.  
“I have to hand it to you...” said the Chevalier.  
“What?”  
He grimaced. “Well played, really.”  
Claude frowned. “I don’t understand.”  
“If you want so badly to marry me, you can at least be honest. You’ve planned all of this, didn’t you?”  
“I’ve planned having a child out of wedlock?” Claude’s voice was suddenly cold. “Not really.”  
“You’ve made your plan since I got out of the carriage, and don’t lie, I know you better than the Lord’s Prayer. You’ve expected every second of what happened, after Philippe sent me away you were ready with all your pity and understanding to make me feel that staying with you is my only option! I said it once and I’ll say it again: You’ve always had perfect timing. Did you mean at least something from that pile of rubbish?”  
“I did,” retorted Claude, “I love my son. And he deserves a father. And the fact I could strip you from everything you hold dear made it even sweeter. When I saw you in your room next to the window I knew that now you finally understand what it’s like to be me. Don’t expect any pity for anything.”  
“You are rare honest woman,” said the Chevalier, “wicked, but rare.”  
“Should I lie to you now?” shrugged Claude. “It’s over. And after all that happened know this: Every evening I pray to God to send his rage and all the worlds misery upon your head. And all the night after that I pray to him to keep you safe. But... if you’re sure you don’t want me... what will you do? He won’t take you back now anyway, you know that, don’t you?”  
“It seems you really don’t know me so well after all,” answered the Chevalier and left Claude alone on the corridor.

It took less than five minutes before the Chevalier stood in front of Philippe’s door again and knocked.  
A servant opened. “What do you wish, Your Highness?”  
“Let me in.”  
“I’m afraid His Royal Highness does not receive visitors,” answered servant.  
“I’m no visitor,” retorted the Chevalier, “and I’m not in the mood for this. Step aside.”  
“I cannot, Your Highness, His Royal Highness doesn’t wish to be interrupted.”  
The Chevalier pressed his lips together, breathed in and out. “Can I leave a message for him? Tell him I wait here until he lets me in or comes out.”  
“Yes, Your Highness.”  
The Chevalier waited less than a minute before door opened. It was the servant again.  
“His Royal Highness does not wish to see you, sire, and asks you to go to your room.”  
“Tell His Royal Highness I stay here all night long if necessary,” said the Chevalier.  
“Yes, Your Highness.”  
This time his answer was even quicker and the servant started to look a little annoyed.  
“His Royal Highness wanted me to remind you that the corridor is cold at night and whatever you do it won’t change anything.”  
“Tell His Royal Highness that I noticed the corridor is cold, but I’m staying.”  
Philippe had to listen as well, crossed the Chevalier’s mind, there is no other way how the response could be so quick.  
“His Royal Highness calls you mad and wishes you good night.”  
“Good night to him.”

In the room was Philippe sitting on the bed and listening to his servant’s conversation. Several times he was ready to jump up and run to the door, but he always stayed and looked elsewhere.  
“He wishes you good night too, Monsieur,” announced the servant.  
“I heard,” nodded Philippe while taking off his clothes. The Servant helped in into nightgown and prepared the bed.  
“Do you wish a warmer for your bed, Monsieur?” asked servant. “It’s quite cold here the last few nights.”  
“Thank you, Ambroise, yes.”  
The Servant nodded, filled the warmer with live coals from the fireplace and put it into his master’s bed.  
“Do you wish anything else?”  
Philippe hesitated for a while before he asked: “Is he still there?”  
Ambroise went to the door on the tips of his toes and put his ear against the wood.  
“I believe he is, Monsieur.”  
“What does he think he’s doing?” sighed Philippe. “I sent him away, unequivocally! I told him I never want to see him again!”  
“Yes, Monsieur.”  
Philippe frowned, slithered into the bed and burrowed his head in the pillows. “That will be all, Ambroise, you may go.”  
“Good night, Monsieur.”

Ambroise wished him good night, but Philippe knew for sure this won’t be a good night at all. The room was quiet, too quiet. Philippe suddenly remembered how he, as child, used to think there are bogeymen in the corners. Now once again he felt that childish fear justifiable. He closed his eyes and tried to think about something nice, but always failed. Think about something nice... and about the Chevalier... and about the Chevalier standing behind the door. That wasn’t nice.  
He really stands there... alone...  
He doesn’t have to stand there.  
He came because he loves me?  
Are you really going to fall for it again? So naive...  
I’m not naive! But... did I hurt him?  
He deserves it.  
He just...  
He deceived me.  
He stands behind my door.  
I take him back? So he can do everything again? And again?  
I just... it’s just... that...  
Philippe turned on the other side. He noticed a spider crawl along the windowsill lit up by moonlight. He smiled. Even the spider reminded him of the Chevalier – of their first night. Philippe forced the Chevalier to creep through secret passages of Louvre and then there was a spider web in his hair, when he finally made it to him.  
No, no thinking about the Chevalier.  
The first night... and so many followed. Nights or even days. Sometimes night and day, which they spent together playing amorous games or simply lying side by side, quietly or talking.  
Damn him!  
Philippe punched the pillow. He was angry, but not about the Chevalier.... I don’t care about the Chevalier... but about himself. I made the decision. I can’t doubt it now!  
Philippe changed his position several more times before he got up from bed, crossed the room and opened the door.  
The Chevalier was still there, leaning against the wall. Their eyes met and they just stared at each other, one dressed in full clothes, the second in a nightgown.  
“You shouldn’t be here,” said Philippe stiffly, “it’s night.”  
The Chevalier nodded. “I know.”  
“Go to your room.”  
“No.”  
“Don’t try it on me,” Philippe warned him, “it’s not going to work. My decision is final.”  
“Why?”  
“You ask me?” gasped Philippe. “You ask me you, you... you, YOU!” And he banged the door shut.  
Once again both alone. Philippe started pacing the room. He shouldn’t do that, he shouldn’t. he shouldn’t go to him. All the emotions – anger, sadness, pity, guilt... everything now boiled in him and clouded his head. Am I really so weak, thought Philippe, maybe...? No, no I can’t. My brother is getting rid of his lovers on regular basis, I can too.  
So, so many reasons to send him away... and one, only one why he should stay.  
He loved his Chevalier, why not admit it? But what he saw on the corridor... he loved his Chevalier, the Chevalier joking, laughing, loving, living, the Chevalier with all his habits, some of them quite irritating, the Chevalier always making that little quiet sound when they’re finished in bed together, just before he falls asleep – even that he claims he doesn’t, he does it. And also the Chevalier vexing and unpredictable, vain and weak, but that’s the part of it.  
But the Chevalier begging, the Chevalier hurt, the Chevalier standing behind the door...  
No, Philippe could not take it, just the image made him sick.  
What would I do, if he sent me away? occurred to Philippe and it was like a giant ice fist squeezed him. He wanted to cry, he wanted to breathe, but he could neither. He left the Chevalier maybe two hours ago and he already missed him so much he could barely stand it. After all they’ve been through he thought he was prepared for anything when it comes to the Chevalier, but he managed to surprise him again and again. And that was part of him too, was it not? He wanted to forgive him, but he wanted to give him a lesson, he wanted to never see him again and he wanted never to be set apart from him, he wanted to touch him, kiss him, hide him into some box where he can’t cause any trouble and then go there too and love him until they both die from exhaustion.  
Damn you! thought Philippe. Just damn you! Damn you!  
He went across the room once again, quickly for not to change his mind, and opened the door.  
The Chevalier was standing there and they were staring at each other again. Then Philippe realized he needed the Chevalier. He needed the old Chevalier back, it was quite simple.  
And they still stared at each other until Philippe gasped, ran the two steps across the corridor and embraced the Chevalier so firmly and sharply he nearly winded him.  
“Damn you!” repeated Philippe. “Damn you!”  
“I know,” whispered the Chevalier.  
Philippe loosened the embrace, grabbed the Chevalier’s hand and dragged him into the room. Then he simply tore off the Chevalier’s clothes and kissed him. Not only once and they both laughed during it. That made it even more laughable, so they kept laughing and kissing.  
“You’re cold,” whispered Philippe after they’ve snuggled up in bed and he embraced the ice cube which used to be his lover.  
“Then I shouldn’t touch you very often,” grimaced the Chevalier and Philippe silenced him with a kiss and then whispered: “You really shouldn’t. But I should. Because no one will do it the way I do. Never.”  
And indeed, for Philippe knew the Chevalier’s body so well it was like he had a map of every single tender spot, and he kept his teasing and fondling until the Chevalier couldn’t bear the sweet torture any longer and took him. They made love, heard each other moan and cry and the "I love you" was no longer some proclamation or promise for them, but a reminder.  
They calmed down quickly, they needed each other’s closeness now, nothing more.  
“I should’ve sent you away,” whispered Philippe, but his gaze was loving, “because of my family, because of God, because of everything you do. But, God help me, I cannot,” he pulled the Chevalier closer so their faces touched, “I don’t care where are you going, when, to whom or for how long, just promise me you’ll always come back.”  
The Chevalier smiled. “I always knew god loves me,” he said, “otherwise he wouldn’t make you as you are, Mignonette. I wish I could be what you want.”  
Philippe looked into his eyes and kissed him. "You are what I want. Precisely and exactly what I want and need.” 

“My dear friends, you have come together in this church so that the Lord may seal and strengthen your love in the presence of the Church’s minister and this community. Christ abundantly blesses this love. He has already consecrated you in baptism and now he enriches and strengthens you by a special sacrament so that you may assume the duties of marriage in mutual and lasting fidelity.”  
The church was crowded by nobility in their finest clothes and priest’s voice echoed in the sacred space like the words of God.  
Philippe leaned towards the Chevalier and whispered: “What about you?”  
The Chevalier silently watched Louis and Catherine in front of the altar before he asked: “What about me?”  
“You know what I mean. Will you marry her?”  
Claude was in the church too, several pews behind them. Philippe turned around for a moment to look at her. She didn’t seem much surprised to see the Chevalier by his side. There was another woman right next to her, probably a nurse, holding small, three years old blue-eyed boy on her lap. It occurred to Philippe it’s probably god’s will, that some people leave this world accidental sons, while others give their wives just two daughters and a miscarriage. But, Philippe turned back after Claude responded to his stare by polite nod, there’s nothing to worry about. His Majesty no longer occupies Henriette’s bed so after she returns from England, there will be more than enough opportunities. He took a side look at the Chevalier. Yes, more than enough opportunities for anything.  
“...Will you love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives? Will you accept children lovingly from God and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?“  
“I will,” answered Louis de Lorraine.  
“I will,” Catherine joined him.  
“Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.”  
“You didn’t answer,” whispered Philippe while Louis and Catherine started to declare their love, “will you marry her? You know... I wouldn’t mind. Or at least I’d try not to, really.”  
“I don’t think I’m the marrying type,” smiled the Chevalier, “and especially marriage with Claude would be hell itself. To be honest – as well as marriage with me.”  
“True,” nodded Philippe.  
“And I’d never bring anyone I don’t hate to that hellhole your brother calls a palace. She could even end up in his bed after some time. I’ve heard some wives do.”  
Philippe gave him a stare. “Do you remember what I said to you last night? That I feel I have to cherish each and every second spent with you?”  
“I remember. And?”  
“The feeling is gone.”  
“You have declared your consent before the Church,” continued the priest, “May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide.”  
“Amen.”  
“I’ll care about the boy, of course,” the Chevalier avoided calling little Alexandre his son, “they’ll be fine.”  
“Do you know I love you even more like this?” smiled Philippe. “I didn’t expect to, but... I do.”  
The Chevalier chuckled. “Remind me of this moment later,” he said.  
“Why?”  
“Well...,” he winked, “I can hardly kiss you in a church full of people, can I?”  
“May the Lord bless these rings which you give to each other as the sign of your love and fidelity.”  
And everyone answered: “Amen.“  
And Louis and Catherine exchanged rings and kissed each other to become husband and wife.

 

Louis de Lorraine and Catherine de Neufville had 14 children together. Nothing is known about Claude de Souches, but her son Alexandre was formally acknowledged by his father in 1674, which allowed him to inherit property. He became known as Chevalier de Beauvernois and his father’s support continued all his life.  
Chevalier de Lorraine died in 1702, the year his first grandchild was born. He died of an internal bleeding, eighteen months after the passing of his beloved Philippe. His heart honored his promise...

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback will be appreciated :-)
> 
> Please, big applause for my amazing proofreader Trudy White, the stories would be hardly so readable without her.


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